


Blame Everyone (But Me) For This Mess

by Hari_Aisu



Series: Coffee's for Closers [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Break Up, Derek dear you be so angsty, Fail!Derek, Fail!Stiles, M/M, Sheriff Stilinski ready to kick ass and take names, Stiles you are also an angst monster, Tropes, all aboard the fail train!, coffee shop AU, hahaha this is just getting sad you guys, self realizations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-15
Updated: 2013-09-28
Packaged: 2017-12-26 16:22:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/968052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hari_Aisu/pseuds/Hari_Aisu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Both Derek and Stiles were much more alike than either man cared to admit.</p><p>Both men had gone into the relationship thinking that it was temporary, despite both of their protests to the contrary. The thought of being together was the relationship equivalent of handling a time-bomb; set to a time limit and once detonated, not salvageable. Although Stiles and Derek were positive that they wouldn’t be the one to end it, it would ultimately pan out in disaster when it did. They didn’t see the other man’s devotion. Not when they were both so used to failure and disappointment.</p><p>The problem with that type of mentality when you were in a relationship was that when it did end and the dust settled and everyone was scattered away from each other, you were never quite ready for the inevitable goodbye.</p><p>Both Derek and Stiles were much more alike than either man cared to admit and they would both come to pay for it dearly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I'm Not A Crybaby (I'm The Crybaby)

 

Both Derek and Stiles were much more alike than either man cared to admit.

Both men had gone into the relationship thinking that it was temporary, despite both of their protests to the contrary. The thought of being together was the relationship equivalent of handling a time-bomb; set to a time limit and once detonated, not salvageable. Although Stiles and Derek were positive that they wouldn’t be the one to end it, it would ultimately pan out in disaster when it did. They didn’t see the other man’s devotion. Not when they were both so used to failure and disappointment.

The problem with that type of mentality when you were in a relationship was that when it did end and the dust settled and everyone was scattered away from each other, you were never quite ready for the inevitable goodbye.

Both Derek and Stiles were much more alike than either man cared to admit and they would both come to pay for it dearly.

* * *

  _  
_

Stiles made his way inside his dingy apartment, bags in hand and heart in his throat, not exactly sure how things had managed to get as bad as they did. There had been no strange glances or heated glares at the sight of Stiles’ things scattered around Derek’s apartment. In fact, Derek had not even seemed to _mind_. It had been what had caused Stiles to become so cocky, really. Derek had said no and Stiles had pushed, but there had been no hesitation on Derek’s part to signal that Stiles’ efforts to show him that his initial hesitance to live together had been terrible or frustrating.

So what had gone so _wrong_?

Tony, who was one of the less creepy men who lived with Stiles, gave the other man an odd stare as he entered the apartment. “Do you, uh, need help with that stuff?”

Stiles had laughed awkwardly and pushed the things into his room, not really answering his roommate at all. Tony shrugged and made his way into his own room, used to Stiles’ brand of strangeness.

It was quite obvious that all Stiles wanted was to be alone in his misery.

He had known that sooner or later that things were going to go south. The barista had been too enamored to think that _now_ would be that moment, though. And here he was, stuck in his broken down apartment with mounds of his things to remind him that nothing that was good for him ever lasted very long. He should have known these kinds of things weren’t meant to last, after all. There wasn’t a person on Earth that could stand to be with Stiles and not get sick of him eventually. Stiles should be used to feeling lonely.

And if he wasn’t familiar with the feeling anymore, he was going to have to get used to it all over again.

 

* * *

 

The moment that Derek had opened the door and saw that all the bags were gone, he had known that things had not panned out how he had believed they would go.

He had expected Stiles to come trampling in, coltish limbs flailing around in a complete rage, eyes blazing full of self-righteousness. They were both supposed to be full of anger and stubborn words, neither willing to admit the other was right yet still willing to fight it out nonetheless. It was supposed to be an eclectic clash of wills that would end in either angry sex or confused tears, but it would _end_ and that was the point.

It seemed that Stiles, however, was not willing to follow the script.

( _Or, which was more likely, Stiles was sick of following something that didn’t seem to get him anywhere._ )

So Derek did what he did best and he waited.

He waited for the phone call to tell him that Stiles was done and that he couldn’t do this anymore and that he wanted more than what Derek was willing to give and he was sick of waiting for something that would probably never come.

Waited for the text message demanding closure to a relationship that was ( _apparently_ ) doomed from the start. The halting accusations that would do nothing but make Derek think twice about every word said and every decision made in the months they had been together but at least it would be something to _think_ about.

Waited for the confrontation that would ultimately end everything and begin a new cycle of loneliness that would seem all the more bitter now that he knew what it was like to care for someone so fiercely and have it be taken away without so much as a goodbye.

Derek waited because he knew that if he tried to call-

If he tried to text-

If he went to Stiles’ apartment or to the Foamy Coffee and tried to say the first word, they would not be words full of finality and heartbreak. He would break in the presence of those hot-whiskey eyes and beg for more time, more care, more _everything_. It wouldn’t be the end of anything if he made the first move and he didn’t know what that meant in the grand scheme of things but damn it all if he was going to be the one to end it because that was something that he knew he wasn’t capable of.

 

* * *

 

“Stiles?” Lydia poked the younger man with a spoon, “You’re in my way.”

“Sorry!” Stiles flailed, body leaping away from the door as he tried to coordinate himself while not appearing as if he had been staring out the coffee shop’s windows, waiting for someone that he was quite sure never coming back. “I just got a little distracted.”

Or a _lot_ distracted.

Something that Lydia had complained about for the last week that he had been fumbling along with his apparent break-up.

Stiles liked to think that it wasn’t all connected but he wasn’t that naïve.

“Waiting for somebody that isn’t coming back?” The strawberry-blonde manager snapped as she pushed past the door and flipped her hair over her shoulder. She didn’t even wait for Stiles’ response, though even if she had, she would have been waiting for a long time.

Stiles locked the doors and shook his head.

At this point, there wasn’t anything around here worth waiting for and Stiles was done deluding himself otherwise.

 

* * *

 

“ _A vacation?_ ”

“ _It’s Spring Break, dad. Don’t you want to see your favorite son?!_ "

“ _First off, you’re my only son, so it’s not like I’ve got much choices in the favorite category. Second off, aren’t you supposed to be planning beach trips and out of country debauchery-fests during your spring break? I’m positive that’s how these things are supposed to go now that I’m thinking about it._ ”

“ _Uh, what?_ ”

“ _Stiles, is everything ok?_ ”

“ _… I just need to see you, dad._ ”

“ _I don’t have beach babes or drugs anywhere in my vicinity. If that’s alright with you, I would love having you here with me._ ”

“ _I knew there was a downside to this._ ”

“ _Hm, warned you._ ”

“ _I’ll be there next week. I… I love you, dad._ ”

“ _I’ll get your ticket ready. God, the finances you suck out of me._ ”

“ _Hey!_ ”

“ _Love you, too, kid._ ”

 

* * *

 

Two weeks passed without word from either man to the other.

Isaac said nothing to Stiles about his sudden absence and carefully avoided saying Stiles’ name in Derek’s presence.

Neither student nor writer made an effort to contact the other and drifted along in a strange post-war haze, minus the actual _war_. The lack of fighting and confrontation had thrown them off of their game but neither man was willing to take the step forward and instead kept looking back.

What had they done wrong?

What could they have done differently?

Slowly those words turned into ‘ _What did_ they _do_? _How is this_ my _fault? It must be his fault!_ ’

Words toppled over words and thoughts became embittered with accusations and fits of resentment that would boil over in random moods that others would have to suffer.

It was satisfying for a little while but eventually, the calm would settle. By the time they were done brooding both men were left with nothing but blank spaces and more questions to be answered.

 

* * *

 

When Derek finally got around to making his way to the Foamy Coffee, he was only partially surprised to find a young man he hadn’t see before manning the front counter. He was adorable but not in the same manner that Stiles could be classified as adorable. Stiles was unintentionally cute, nerdy expressions and fumbling limbs giving him a Bambi-like cuteness. This man was obviously lithe in a in-shape kind of way, sporty grace evident in the way he was coordinated, going from machine to machine without making a complete mess like Stiles would have if he had been present.

For some reason, not seeing Stiles behind that counter, laughing and shouting out to his customers as he handed out coffee to each person was _infuriating._ How _dare_ this guy just take over as if Stiles had never even belonged there to begin with. Even though the young man gave him a flirty smile, his dimples giving the man an even more adorable visage, Derek was not the least bit moved by the sight in front of him.

A blur of red caught his attention and Derek quickly dodged the flurry of questions thrown at him from the random man he did _not_ want to get to know and tried to flag down the one person who would know where Stiles was (even when he didn’t want to be found).

“Lydia! Hey!” Derek shouted, waving his hand like a maniac. “I just need to talk to you for a second.”

“Well then talk because I don’t have all day to speak to a man that threw one of my friend’s out on his ass. Even if _Stiles_ was being a complete idiot, you knew that fact about him already so I still don’t feel all that sorry for you anyway.” Lydia gave the other man whose name Derek could see was Danny (as said on his name badge) a baleful glare and shooed him back over to the counter, dragging the bulky writer into the furthest corner of the café. “So _talk_ while I have the inclination to do so, because who knows how long it’ll last.”

“I just… where’s Stiles?” Derek went for the direct approach, not willing to be cowed by a tiny redhead with balls bigger than his.

At least not outwardly.

“With his dad, next question.”

“Where’s his dad…?”

“Not in this state, anything else?”

Derek’s face fell. “When’s he coming back?”

“Don’t know, don’t care. For all I know, he _isn’t_ coming back. He pretty much told me before he left that there was nothing left for him to stay here for so for all I know he’ll transfer to some college closer to his daddy and leave this place behind. Not like he has much to come back to, after all.” Lydia didn’t appear the least bit fazed by Derek’s anguish, eyes sharp and full of anger on what Derek was sure was Stiles’ behalf. “Look, I don’t know much about what happened but I do know that Stiles is a dick. He is a moron who thinks that if he pushes hard enough that he’ll get results, both from people and relationships. But think about this, Derek. Every time you push back, what does he do?”

Derek wasn’t sure how to respond to the question, green eyes narrowed but chest tight with the influx of feeling exploding at her words.

“He…” The emotionally-exhausted author felt the breath seep out of him as he sighed, “he let’s go.”

“So good job, Einstein. You drove the supposed love of your life back to his daddy. How… quaint the both of you are with your adorable little fits of emotion. Him with his drama and you with your… you-ness.” Before Lydia could walk away, however, she obviously had one more parting blow, “How is that empty apartment working out for you, by the way? Everything still exactly the way you wanted?”

Derek didn’t say anything as she walked away from him, hands buckled into fists and lips thinned out until they were nothing but pale-white lines against ashen cheeks.

Danny attempted to coerce Derek to stay after Lydia’s verbal barrage but the older man was not listening, a litany of angry words repeating in his head until he managed to leave the coffee shop and return to his mostly empty apartment.

Isaac was nowhere to be found, probably not wanting to have to incur more of Derek’s relentless wrath after almost two weeks worth of it being thrown at him in Stiles’ place. He could have called Boyd and Erica and he was sure they would come over and regale him in all the ways that everything was Stiles’ fault and he was an idiot to think that this one would be any different from the multitudes of boyfriends and girlfriends that Derek had, had before but he didn’t want that.

Lydia Martin had reminded him in less than five minutes that Stiles wasn’t the only one to blame in a situation full of mistakes and blunders and he wasn’t sure he was ready to really face what that meant.

 

* * *

 

It had been two days since he had arrived back into Beacon Hills and already Stiles felt his father’s judgment seep into his pores.

He had attempted to seek refuge at Scott’s place but he had remembered that Scott had chosen to go to Cancun with Allison for Spring Break, absolutely heart-broken when he had invited Stiles and Stiles had, had the gall to say no. Scott had even went out of his way to invite Derek (though begrudgingly) and Stiles had sardonically laughed for a good two minutes and vehemently refused with a face so serious, he was sure he had frightened his best friend into a stupor. He had, had enough of Derek and Scott’s posturing the last time his bff-5-evah had visited and wasn’t ready for another cock-fight for at least another four or five months, thank you very much, Scott.

So he was stuck with his judgy-judge-meister of a dad who suspected with an unerring father’s instinct that something was not quite right and kept giving him vicious stares full of judgment and questions that Stiles _refused_ to answer.

His father barely knew that someone was in his life and just from those stares alone, Stiles was quite sure that he knew what _kind_ of problem that Stiles was dealing with. That didn’t mean that the older man needed more ammunition. What he needed to be was supportive and loving and damn it, would it kill his dad to make him some pancakes and pat him on his head, he was a heart-broken son with issues! He needed to be nurturing not inquisitive!

( _Though considering it was Stiles’ father, the only person in the universe who was nosier than Stiles, this wasn’t a particularly shocking_.)

Stiles knew that he would eventually break down and tell his dad everything. He would explain that, that someone he had been seeing had been a man who looked like a jail convict and that said man was so closed off that even after almost a year of being together, he had sacked Stiles’ stuff out without even flinching and had not had the balls to call him and inform him that it was over. The young Stilinski knew that he would finally cry and mourn the one relationship he had thought would last, shed his naivety and become harder and tougher to crack in terms of love. In the end, he was sure he had given all that he could give to Derek. The barista wasn’t a moron when it came to love; he fell hard and fast and Derek had been no exception. The difference had been in the _way_ he felt his emotions for Derek.

It had not been an explosive barrage of feels that faded away just as quickly. The chemistry had evolved into affection and that had eventually transformed into love.

Stiles was in love with Derek Hale and the man could give two shits about that fact. And that hurt. But he wouldn’t show it. He couldn’t show it. Stiles would quietly move on and then things would go back to normal.

Just the way Derek had wanted them to.

 

* * *

 

John Stilinski was a no-nonsense man when it came to the people he cared about, the number one person on that list being his son. He was diligent towards the town he protected as sheriff and warm towards the people he came to call friends but for his son, John was willing to do whatever it took to make sure that he was ok and that he wasn’t making life choices that didn’t make him either cringe or bang his head against the wall.

Anyone who knew Stiles knew that either was a potential when it came to his decision-making skills.

To see his son so despondent and quiet was not something that John was used to. The phone-call had been a tip-off that something was not quite right, especially knowing that Stiles had someone to stay with during his week off, but the listless way that the young brunet had stepped off the plane and into his father’s arms had been the ultimate giveaway. There had been something strange hovering over his son’s atmosphere, bringing him down so far that even his usual spunkiness was dimmed by the cloud hanging over his head.

He didn’t know who screwed with his son but damn it if they weren’t going to feel his wrath once Stiles came clean about what was going on. He couldn’t avoid John forever.

And that statement would hold quite true in that moment as two cups of coffee were laid out on the table and Stiles’ unabashed face screamed ‘Please, God, no!’ in light of what this meant.

John smiled serenely as his son flinched then slowly sat down, knowing there was no way he was going to avoid this discussion at this point.

“So, how are things, son?”


	2. I Am The Best You'll Never Have

 

As both Derek and Stiles were much more alike than either man thought, it would only make sense that they also tended to take the same things for granted, especially when it came to their families and friends.

They took their loved one's comfort and condolences and kept them huddled away from prying eyes, reminding themselves that they were in the right, that they were the victims, that they weren't _wrong_.

But that never lasted very long. When those rose-colored shades were ripped away by the very people they relied to feed them such platitudes, there was little they could do but face the realization that sometime they weren’t as innocent as they liked to pretend they were.

 

* * *

 

“She said that I was an idiot.”

“ _Uh huh._ ”

“And that Stiles leaving was inevitable.”

“ _Ok._ ”

“That it was my fault he was gone.”

“ _Well, do you think it's your fault?_ ”

“I don’t… I don’t know.”

“ _Derek, you need to think about this, and when I say that, I mean actually think about it and not just angst stupidly. Do you really want him to come back?_ ”

“Yeah. That’s not the problem, Laura, I never wanted him to _leave_ in the first place! Not like... not like that!”

“ _Well, why did you throw his stuff out then._ ”

“We weren’t ready for that sort of commitment yet! I told him that! I told him that it wasn’t a good idea and he _didn't listen_.”

“ _Told him. You didn’t discuss it with him. You_ told _him_.”

“Yeah. We _weren’t ready_ Laura!”

“ _We, or you, Derek._ ”

“…”

“ _When you start being honest with yourself, Derek, then you can start placing the blame. At this point, you two are never getting back together if you can't even admit that something was fundamentally wrong before this whole moving-in fiasco happened._ ”

“But I... I didn’t want him to go. I just… _I want him to understand._ ”

“ _Then you need to learn to stop pushing him away because you’re not giving him any incentive to stay, Derek._ ”

“I’m not pushing him away. It was too soon! Why can't you understand, I can’t lose him like I lost-“

“ _…Like you lost?_ ”

“…”

“ _Like you lost Paige, you mean?_ ”

“… We weren’t ready. _I wasn’t ready_.”

“ _Stiles isn’t Paige, Derek. You know that better than anybody._ ”

“... ... I think I need to think for a bit.”

“ _You do that, little brother. I’ll be here if you need me._ ”

“Thanks, Laura.” 

“ _Love you, Derek._ ”

“… Love you, too.”

Derek let the phone fall onto the couch as he stared up at his ceiling.

“Fuck.”

 Maybe it wasn't all Stiles fault after all.

Maybe Derek needed to re-evaluate all of his life choices because at this rate, he was never going to be able he was good at knowing what the right thing to do was ( _and wasn't_ ).

 

* * *

 

“I am so not ready for this conversation.” Stiles murmured as he sat down and grabbed the mug in front of him. He took a quick swig and shuddered angrily for his efforts. The coffee, though still piping hot, rested distastefully on his tongue. Stiles knew that his father must've been really agitated if he knowingly did not put enough sugar and milk in his cup so that he could watch him cringe in disgust.

The Stilinski father, much like the Stilinski son, was an asshole in just about every single way.

Stiles was still not sure how the two men managed to coexist without imploding sometimes.

“And yet here we are still having it.” John snapped back. “What’s going on, kiddo? Why have you been so down?”

“I… uh…”

‘Think quickly, think quickly, think quickly, think quickly-‘

“There’s a girl.” Stiles stuttered out, knowing as soon as the words came out that they were the wrong one's to say. 

‘Wait, WHAT?!’

John gave his son a peculiar stare but did not interrupt.

Stiles considered it a plus at this point.

“And she is…” Stiles felt his tongue click against his teeth, not even sure where he was going with this. “She isn’t as interested in me as I am in her.”

Somehow Stiles was digging a bigger hole for himself and he wasn’t even sure where it was coming from and why he continued to speak, his mouth should be arrested and left to rot in jail, Jesus Christ.

“Really, now?” John leaned back in his seat, obviously enjoying the show.

There was something to be said about the art of bullshitting a Stilinski, especially when the other was _also_ a Stilinski.

It usually didn’t end very well.

Though Stiles wasn’t so sure he was bullshitting anymore.

“We’ve been together for almost a good year and everything has been going great, right?! I met her sisters and h-she, **she** has met Scott. We were with each other so much, we might as well have been living together.” Stiles leaned forward, the steam of his coffee tickling his nostrils as he brought the cup up towards his lips. “I thought that the next logical step would have been moving in together. It’s what people do, right? And we are people. We are _awesome_ people! But he quote-unquoute 'decided' that we weren’t ready. Like, he straight up said, “Stiles, this isn’t happening, stop pushing it!” in his stupid, gruff voice and intense green eyes, all snarly and crap as if he had any right to _snarl_ , I give you _orgasms_ , how dare you snarl! And who was _he_ to decide all that by himself anyway! The moving-in committee?! Cause I sure as hell didn’t vote him into power! In fact, I wanted him impeached the moment he said no, the jerk-off!”

John blinked as he watched his son continue to rant, not commenting on the change of pronoun as she abruptly became he.

“So, yeah, I challenged the shit out of him. What did he expect?! And guess what, we went almost two months living together _and the bastard didn’t even realize we were living together._ Like, I had almost all of my stuff in the damn apartment and this mofo didn’t even _realize_ all of my shit was congregating in his space. He didn’t even _blink_. And everyday I would think, this will be the moment he notices. This will be the day he realizes that he was wrong and I was right and _what is wrong with him, how is he not figuring this out_?! I honestly thought I was dating the most oblivious man on Earth for a good two weeks before I realized that he just couldn’t tell the _difference_.”

“We had been spending so much time together that he hadn’t been able to tell that we had been staying together in a whole different way than just seeing each other every other day.” Stiles laughed as he glanced down at his coffee, still a murky dark-brown color and not nearly as sweet as he liked it to be. The taste was still slightly repellant but it had not halted his incessant need to drink it. The taste wasn't exactly growing on him but he was becoming more tolerant of it the more he drank. “I thought we were doing so good that I didn’t realize that things weren’t so good until I caught him throwing all of my stuff out into his hallway and no speech as to why. I didn’t even get a goodbye. Just a ‘here’s your shit, thanks for the sex, have a nice day.'”

John almost gagged on his coffee, glaring at his son for taking him off guard.

Stiles, who was now off in his own world, didn’t even notice.

“I know that he didn’t want me to move in but why couldn’t he just say ‘Stiles, you need to get your shit out.’ Or ‘Stiles, what the hell is the matter with you, I said no!’ Instead, I get silence and the boot... like, as if _I_ did something wrong! As if I was the one to overstep my bounds and be all creepy!”

“Which you pretty much did.”

“Yea- _what_?!”

The blue-eyed officer rolled his eyes, wondering how such a smart boy could be so… oblivious.

It seemed like Stiles wasn’t as immune to the feeling as he thought.

“First off, can I ask when _she_ became _he_ and whether I should be worried by this sudden change?” The sheriff drawled, enjoying the gobsmacked look on his son’s face as the younger man’s thoughtless mistake had been lost once he had began unleashing his load onto the older man’s lap.

“Now that, that’s out of the way, let’s get back to the point at hand. You moved into a man’s home without his consent, Stiles. I think that’s pretty wrong in and of itself, which apparently your ‘guy’ seems to think too.” John took a long sip of his coffee as Stiles’ face slowly transformed from befuddled to utterly frustrated.

It was obvious that his son truly believed that he had not been in the wrong; or rather that the wrong had been minor in comparison to Derek’s ‘mistake’.

Only his son.

“In my opinion, he had every _right_ to throw your stuff out. And I know you, Stiles. This man must be a _saint_ to be able to tolerate living with you for _two months_ without any type of compensation for it. The fact that he didn’t even notice just tells me he is… uh… of a special type of fortitude.”

“Oh, he was getting _compensated_ , thank you. And don’t call my boyfriend special, I don’t like that word. He is of a particularly different designation, is all.” Stiles snapped back, enjoying the shade of red his father’s face managed to achieve in a few short seconds.

It was the little things that Stiles appreciated, really.

John, apparently took in one part of that come back, and it was not the part that would grant him any small mercies. “Oh God, Stiles! There are some things a father does _not_ need to know!”

The lithe brunet smirked. “… Nailed it.”

“Stiles!”

“Okay, okay…” The brown-eyed barista gave the older Stilinski the side-eye. “So you’re saying it’s okay that he threw me out?”

“I didn’t say that. I said it was within his _right_. Now, whether that was the right relationship move on his part is debatable but not so reprehensible. You did break his trust when it seems pretty obvious that this seems like a guy that doesn’t take that too lightly.” John gave his son a scrutinizing glare, seeming to put together the puzzle pieces as he spoke. “You knew what you were doing, Stiles. You knew how he would react. You can’t say that you’re surprised by his actions when you had a feeling based on what you just told me that he would do something drastic once he figured out your scheme. You didn’t _really_ want him to figure it out. You wanted him to keep remaining oblivious and not have to face up to the music. You wanted to absolve yourself of all responsibility without having to confront the fact that the way you achieved what you wanted was wrong.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong, he said he wasn’t ready and I wanted to prove him wrong!” Stiles objected strongly. “We were doing _fine_. I don’t get what the big deal was!”

Narrowed blue eyes gleamed as an idea entered John’s head. “You really don’t see the problem?”

“No!”

“Not at all?”

“I said no, didn’t I?”

“Stiles, have you met his family yet?”

“Just his two sisters…” Stiles hesitantly answered in return, not sure where his father was going with this but not trusting the look on his face either. “He met Scott so it’s not like we aren't even there. Scott’s basically like the brother I never had.”

“So you were really serious about him?”

“Yes, I am, not _were_.”

“So why haven’t I met him yet? Almost a year together and yet I don’t hear about this guy _at all_ in the whole amount of time you’re together? Just that you're kind of 'seeing somebody'.”

And there was the question that Stiles was dreading.

“… Um…”

“Why did you try to pass him off as a girl?” John continued, not slowing his momentum now that he managed to catch Stiles off guard.

“Uh…”

“Why did you feel the need to come home and yet not want to tell me that you had been seriously involved with someone, let alone that it was so serious that you had _moved in with them_?”

“Goddamn it.” Stiles lowered his head in defeat. “I… I guess I wasn’t…”

“Hm? Weren’t, _what_ , Stiles?”

“I wasn’t ready, okay!”

John pushed his coffee cup forward, the empty mug stained a dark, deep black on the inner rim. “And I rest my case.”

Stiles pouted for a moment. Then looked inside his cup, which was now just as empty as his father’s.

When the hell did that happen?

“Do you love this guy?”

The college student almost laughed hysterically as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His father had the unerring knack of asking _all_ of the wrong ( _right_ ) questions.

“Does it matter?”

John’s lips thinned out as Stiles lifted himself up off of the chair and walked out of the kitchen without a glance back, obviously hitting the mark too close for Stiles’ comfort.

At least now John knew that Stiles would take action. Once backed into a corner, Stiles’ first reaction was to do just that; _react_. The boy did not do anything by halves, and even if the impulsive action would not have positive results, they would at least yield more results than the stagnant existence that his son had inhabited so far. Stiles was not a person that was meant to live within shades of gray and whoever this guy was would be an idiot if he just let his son go without a second thought.

He might be an oblivious, overly-impulsive jerk but he was also one of the most sensitive, caring and loyal jerks that you would ever come to love.

“Yeah, son. It really does.” John stated quietly, thinking of long brown hair, endless pale skin and twinkling amber-brown eyes.

And these two… these two were definitely, without a shadow of a doubt, so drenched in it you might as well give them a towel, _in love_

 

* * *

 

Later that night, John slept with a picture of Claudia over his chest.

Stiles pretended that he didn’t notice the picture missing in the living room the next morning.

 

* * *

 

Derek was surprised when he told his friends that he doubted that he and Stiles would going to be getting back together and basically received nonchalance in return.

He had expected to be treated like glass much like when he and his other significant others had broken up.

That was not what he got.

“Are you fucking serious?” Erica rolled her eyes as she stood up and walked out of the living room she shared with Boyd. “I thought you had managed to find a keeper this time and you go and chase him away.”

“I didn’t chase him away!” Derek argued, though after the scolding he had received at Lydia’s hands and the conversation he had shared with Laura, the words didn’t carry the same weight that they did two weeks back. “I thought… I thought… I don’t even know what I thought.”

Derek pretended that he didn’t hear the snort carry through the open doorway leading to the kitchen.

“It’s too bad, I actually kinda liked him a little bit. Sometimes.” Boyd stated as he kept his eyes firmly on the television screen in front of them, clearly uninterested in Derek’s relationship problems. “At least you don’t have to deal with all the non-stop talking anymore.”

“Yeah…” The green-eyed writer reluctantly agreed, clearly unsettled by the prospect of a newly-silent apartment.

“And no more messes to clean.” Erica chimed in as she re-entered the living room, the box of pizza cradled within her arms.

“Or loud noises that wake you up at like five o'clock in the morning.”

“Yeah, and he won’t have to deal with anymore clinginess. That kid took constant cuddling to the extreme.”

Derek shrunk in on himself the more they spoke, the reverberating emptiness that had been settled deep in his gut since Stiles’ disappearance growing larger and larger.

“Or clutter, remember how much clutter he had going on in Derek’s?! Oh my God, I thought that kid was trying to get on Hoarders or something.”

“Remember the random action figures he had lying around?”

“He called them collectibles cause they were still in the box.”

“What a nerd!”

“Shut up!” Derek finally snapped, fists clenched and eyes narrowed with rage and frustration. 

Both Boyd and Erica instantly quieted, staring at Derek with wide eyes as the normally silent man boiled over with seething anger.

“Derek, man…” Boyd patted the man on the shoulder but Derek did not want the touch.

There was only one person that Derek wanted right now _and damn it, he had practically driven him away to another fucking state_.

“I’m gonna go home,” the eldest man in the room muttered before grabbing his coat, ignoring the two other people in the room trying to cajole him into staying. “Thanks for having me over.”

“Anytime.” Erica said, the room growing colder as Derek left without another word.

“Think he’s going to get his shit together and get his man back?” Boyd asked once he was sure Derek was not coming back inside.

The blonde rolled her eyes and then snorted. “If that doesn’t work, I don’t know what well. Idiots the both of them.”

Boyd didn't even dignify his girlfriend with a response.

 

* * *

  

The next time John would make Stiles a cup of coffee, he made it the exact same way he made it the first time he had given him a cup of coffee, that dreadful conversation still ringing in his ears even when he tried to will away the thoughts and concentrate only on the cup in front of him.

Then the next time he made coffee, John did it again.

And again.

And _again_.

What really bothered Stiles each time he drank his coffee, however, wasn’t the taste.

It was that he never bothered to _fix it_.

The bitter flavor of the coffee wasn’t masked by any sweetness and the swirl of milk didn’t do much to dilute any of the caffeine within drink. The cup was unnaturally hot every time it was handed to him but Stiles never waited for it to cool down.

And the first sip was always the absolute worst. The second was almost as bad but Stiles drank through it. By the time he got to his sixth sip he was already good and accustomed to the terrible taste, not sure why he was still drinking the disgusting thing but not willing to put the cup down regardless of all the logic in his head screaming at him to give in and just _change_ what he didn’t like about it.

The light bulb turned on over his head with not a gentle glow but a blinding shine.

Sometimes, Stiles had to catch up to his own brain because the connections it made were not always cognizant.

“I’ve been trying to change him.” Stiles mumbled to himself as he stared down at the new mug of coffee, absolutely horrified with himself.

“Hm?” The sheriff turned to face his son, confused by the sudden proclamation.

“I kept saying that he was fine. Everything was perfect. _He_ was perfect. But I was lying. That’s why I never brought up you meeting him. I didn’t think he was ready yet. I didn’t want to go to you and feel like I wasn’t doing everything _right_. That _he_ wasn’t right.” Stiles felt his mouth drop open, eyes growing glossy by the revelation. “I didn’t trust him to make the right decisions so I let them go or made them for him behind his back but when he decided that we weren’t ready to move in, _I_ decided that he was wrong without even asking him _why and oh God, I'm a horrible person._ ”

John said nothing as his son stared at his coffee morosely.

“I’m not just horrible, I'm _deplorable._ That's even worse, right?!”

“You’re human.” The older man countered, grabbing his son by the shoulder and shaking him. “And now that you know what you’ve done wrong, you can decide whether or not your relationship is worth fighting for.”

Stiles nodded as he grabbed his coffee and brought it to his lips.

It was still bitter.

It was still too hot.

It was still too strong.

But he said nothing and drank it anyway.

 

* * *

 

“ _So did you figure it out?_ ”

“I think so.”

“ _Are you okay?_ ”

“I’m hoping I will be.”

“ _Do you even know where he is?_ ”

“Nope.”

“ _And yet you’re not the least bit worried?_ ”

“Well, I know who _does_ know where he is and whether or not he’s coming back so it’ll be up to them whether they mail it or keep it or just… throw it away.”

“ _You really think they’ll give it to him?_ ”

“I have to try and stay positive here, Laura.”

“ _… Can you say that again, I think my brain may be suffering from explosion-itis where things are said that make my mind go kabloowie._ ”

“You just hurt my writer’s brain by saying all of that.”

“ _Please, you being positive trumps my horrible grammar and random garble You are really serious about this, aren’t you?_ ”

“I want to do this right.”

“ _I just want you to be happy._ ”

“I know, Laura. I want you to be happy, too.”

“ _Fingers crossed?_ ”

“Ok, too far.”

“ _Sorry!_ ”

 

* * *

 

Lydia blinked as she stared down at the paper, not quite sure how she managed to get herself involved in these idiotic spats.

“You want me to give this to him. What are we in third grade?”

Derek rolled his eyes.

It was as if she was testing him. And by him, he meant his patience, which he had none _left_ of, thank you very much.

“How do you know I won’t throw it away as soon as you leave?”

“Because despite not wanting to admit to this and lose any semblance of sanity I have left, I trust you not to. And that may be the most idiotic decision I make in the next coming weeks but I have nothing else to lose and you’re all I got in connections to Stiles. Minus Scott. But I refuse to go there, even as the last option of all options.” Derek couldn’t even find himself thinking up that scenario, the enraged face of Stiles’ best friend distorted too heavily by the puppy dog eyes he would be sure to invoke the moment Derek’s fist came flying up and towards his face. “You don’t have to give it to him but if you think he might want to still talk to me, even for just five minutes, you would be a bad friend not to.”

Lydia rolled her eyes and pushed the envelope into her designer purse, her momentum back in stride. “Whatever.”

Derek smirked as he backed away from the tiny redhead and made his way back to the Camaro.

Maybe Stiles didn’t want to talk to him.

Maybe he had lost his chance the moment he had closed that door, his apartment completely vacant of anything resembling Stiles’ presence.

Maybe he was fighting for a lost cause.

But maybe, just maybe, Stiles was secretly thinking all the same things and hoping that this thing was worth fighting for too.

 

* * *

 

Stiles grinned as he hugged his dad goodbye, eyes closed as he held onto his father as tightly as possible.

“You’ll call me when you land, right?”

“Yup.” The long-limbed brunet stumbled out of the older man’s grasp, bouncing in place. “I’ll probably need a pep talk as soon as I get there. You are not obligated to provide it but it would be much appreciated, please and thanks.”

“What are you planning on doing?”

Stiles didn’t say anything as he shrugged, a large, almost cartoonish smile stretching out his lips until they were taut and thin against the apples of his cheeks.

“I’ll let you know when I figure it out, dad.”

John waved at his son as he disappeared through the clog of people and security, hand lingering upwards until it hurt to keep it up anymore. He would miss his son, just as he always did when he said goodbye, but he would hope and pray for good things once he returned.

One of those good things being a potential son-in-law who happened to be tolerant of Stilinski’s and everything they could dish out.

That made him a man cut from steel in John’s book, and it was going to be _very_ interesting to see how the dynamics were going to shift the next visit that would grace the sheriff’s company.

 

* * *

 

The first thing Stiles did when he landed was call his dad, just as he said.

He still didn’t know what he was going to do.

Who else to call.

Where else to go.

But unlike the feeling of loss that had weighed heavily in his gut before he left, Stiles felt elated. Rejuvenated. Uplifted.

Beacon Hills had done him some good.

It had reminded him that relationships, they were just one piece of the grander puzzle that was life and even if Derek didn't want to be with him anymore, he'd be damned if he didn't have him in his life one way or another.

But most importantly, the trip had given him _perspective_.

When he got to back to his overly-cramped apartment, he re-evaluated _everything_ when he got to the door of his bedroom and blinked up at the envelope taped to the wood, a familiar cramped script scrawled along the milky-white paper of the casing.

**_To: Stiles_ **

**_Please, just read._ **

It seemed that _perspective_ was not willing to wait and needed to be confronted _now_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... 
> 
> DUN DUN DUUUUUUUN. 
> 
> Next part should be the last part of CFC. I know. What. HOW. But yes. 
> 
> And do I see smut in the future...? Idek, I haven't written it yet LOL. Thanks for reading, you guys! Hope you enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> Part One of Two: DONE. 
> 
> Are we all boarded on the train that is Derek and Stiles' failure? Very good, have a nice journey, I'm sure it'll be fun lol. 
> 
> Part DEUX: Stiles, you are so cray. Sheriff, you are so diligent. Derek, you are so... Derek. LAURA YOU ARE AMAZE-BALLS. 8D


End file.
